I was in my favorite place -- Myrtle Beach, Oregon -- for the first time in twenty years. I had nothing to do but enjoy myself for the next couple of weeks. And walking on the beach was a big part of what I intended to do. I was in heaven, except for the niggle in the pit of my stomach.
The niggle said that I had no business being here, spending money at a fancy oceanfront B&B when I didn't have a job. It said that Barry, Gian, and the other guys laid off when I was were home frantically combing through want-ads and polishing their resumes. I should be doing the same.
The niggle was crazy. At thirty-eight, with no dependents, and after nearly eighteen years of moving steadily upward in the software field, I could afford a vacation. More than that, I needed a break from the constant pressure and deadlines. And maybe it sounds like bragging, but I knew there'd be jobs waiting for me after my vacation. So, I dismissed the niggle, and wallowed in the beauty of the day.
And then the day got even better. Up ahead and a little closer to the water, I saw a woman. A beautiful woman. A woman I felt compelled to meet.
I caught up to her in seconds, so quickly that I barely had a chance to enjoy the rhythmic swaying of her hips as she walked, and the slightly different rhythm of the long brown braid that trailed down her back. A thousand possible uses for that braid burst in my brain at once. I could pull on it to annoy her -- or use it caveman-style to drag her off to my lair.
Since my current lair was a bedroom in a B&B and this was the twenty-first century, I opted for a more civilized approach. "Great day, isn't it?" Okay -- that was hardly the most brilliant opening line ever imagined, but it got the job done.
She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye, then turned her whole head toward me and smiled. "It sure is. It hasn't been this warm since Labor Day." She kept walking at the same speed, and I walked along with her.
Labor Day had been two weeks ago. "You've been here a while, then," I commented.
"Uh-huh."
Okay. That hadn't been worded as a question, so I wouldn't assume anything from her non-answer. I strained my peripheral vision to check whether her front view was as tempting as the rear view had been. Her bathing suit was full of red and blue swirls and she had a towel knotted around her waist. With each step, one long leg peeked out from under the towel. Yes, the front view was very nice.
I looked up at her face and found her watching me with what seemed like amusement. "You have a great tan," I said, expecting the smile to vanish.
"I'm so glad you approve," she said. Her eyes told me that she was giving me a break this time, but that once was her limit. I'd either watch my step or be out of luck in the future.
I'd watch my step. She was the first woman I'd been attracted to in at least six months, and I wasn't willing to have it end before it even got started. "By the way, I'm Ric, and I just got into town last night."
"Hi, Ric. I'm Kristi."
"Kristi's a nice name," I said. It was slightly exotic, but basically down- to-earth, a lot like how she appeared. She had delicate features and almond- shaped eyes, with flecks of gold visible within a darker brown. "I'm staying down the beach a ways at a B&B." I gestured behind me.
"Martha's Madness?" she asked.
"Yeah. Do you know it?" Could she possibly be staying there, too?
She nodded. "Sure. Brittany's a friend." Brittany was the owner, and she appeared to be somewhere around Kristi's age. My age, too. "I'm a local," she explained, then suddenly made a face. "And I just realized I've got to head back. I have to work."
It crossed my mind to wonder about her excuse, but she was obviously sincere. "That's too bad." Well, this was the moment of truth. "I'll be in town for a couple of weeks. Can I see you again?"
She laughed. "Myrtle Beach isn't big enough that we're likely to miss each other for that long." But then she smiled right at me and added, "I'm here on the beach every morning."
"I'll see you tomorrow, then," I told her.
And I would see her, even if I had to search the entire stretch of beach.
**
My stomach tightened as I reached for the door of the restaurant. Except why would I be nervous? Nash's had practically been my home twenty years ago, and one of the reasons I'd chosen Myrtle Beach for this impromptu vacation was that I'd wanted to come here.
I pushed aside the nerves -- or maybe it was hunger -- and stepped inside. It looked almost exactly like I remembered it. Tables up front and booths further back, across from the kitchen, and in the very back, a small but well- stocked bar. I wasn't good with décor, so maybe that had changed over the years, but if it had, I thought it was only slightly.
The waitress approached me -- obviously Trish, but just as clearly, the years hadn't been particularly kind to her. "Welcome to Nash's, sir. Would you like smoking or --"
There was a change. We hadn't had a non-smoking section before. I stopped her before she could finish. "Non-smoking, Trish, thank you."
As she picked up a menu, I saw her trying to figure out how I knew her name. I decided to make it a little easier. "I haven't smoked in twenty years -- not since you used to sneak me cigarettes for my break." And I'd hardly smoked those. I'd take a couple of puffs, then hold it between my thumb and forefinger while the rest burned down. Smoking had simply been an easy way to pretend I was as grownup as Trish. I'm not sure why I'd thought an unmarried teenage mother with a voracious appetite for men was an appropriate role model.
Her smile made her look years younger. "Ric? Ric Delmore? I can't believe it!" She planted a big kiss on my cheek and slipped her arm around my waist familiarly. "You turned out to be a real hunk. I shouldn't have let you go."
I was far from being a hunk, and she hadn't ever had me -- contrary to my dreams back then, when I'd been desperate to shed my virginity. But she'd treated me like her little brother, and when I finally got up enough nerve to ask her to meet me on the deserted stretch of beach where she met her boyfriends, she'd laughed at me. "You're practically a baby."
It had been for the best, I knew that now. At the time I'd been both hurt and embarrassed, and I'd never felt really comfortable with her again. Now, having her arm around me and her lush breasts pressing into me felt vaguely dirty. I ignored the invitation and said, "I'm in town for a few days, so I thought I'd come by, say hi, and have a good dinner. Are Walt and Olivia still running the place?"
She appeared amused at my lack of response, but simply shrugged and started leading me toward the booths. "Walt's here. I'll put you back here where he can visit with you." She slapped the menu onto the table and gave my butt a squeeze as she called, "Walt!"
He appeared in the swinging kitchen door a few seconds later. "What is it, Trish?" She'd headed toward the front of the restaurant, though, and didn't answer. He looked around with a bit of a frown, then caught sight of me. His broad face lit up. "Ric! I never thought I'd see you again!" He crossed the aisle in two big steps and wrapped me in a bear hug. He released me suddenly and demanded, "What are you doing here, boy? And why hasn't Trish poured you a glass of my special wine?" He raised his voice and barked at her. "Bring us the bottle, Trish -- and two glasses." He shoved me in the direction of one of the booth's bench seats and lowered himself gingerly into the other side.
"It's good to see you again." I was suddenly embarrassed that I'd never bothered to come before -- it wasn't like I'd been far away. This part of the Oregon Coast was less than two hours from the west-side of Portland where I'd spent most of the last twenty years. I was getting worried about Olivia, too. Why wasn't she here with Walt? I hated to think that she might have died, and was afraid to ask.
Trish appeared then with a bottle that looked slightly dusty and one glass, which she put in front of me. When Walt opened his mouth, she said, "Don't give me any of that, Walter Nash. Olivia'd skin me alive if I served you any alcohol." She poured wine into the single glass and shook her finger at Walt. "And don't you dare get your own glass. I'm going to call Olivia now, and you know as well as I do that she'll run right over to see her fair-haired boy."
Since when was I anyone's fair-haired boy? Then again, with Trish, all that meant was that she still nursed a grudge over her belief that Walt and Olivia were playing favorites during those summers long ago. I'd needed their influence as parent substitutes as much as I'd needed their on-the-job supervision. They'd been happy to provide both.
Walt rolled his eyes at Trish. "I swear you like bossing me around more than Livvie does. You tell Kristina to come out here while you're in the kitchen, okay?"
"Kristina's in the kitchen?" I asked, more surprised than probably made sense. Kristina was Walt and Olivia's daughter, and almost literally born into the restaurant business. She'd been a year behind me in school, and had already been so serious about a career as a chef that she'd been away learning the business both summers that I'd worked here. Why wouldn't she be back here cooking?
Walt pressed his lips together and nodded. "Since spring. Livvie can't spend much time on her feet anymore." He seemed to be getting ready to add something, but just then the kitchen door swung open.
My mouth fell open. "Kristi!" The woman on the beach this noon had been Walt and Olivia's daughter!
She smiled warmly. "Hi, Ric. You know my dad?"
Walt wasn't one to let the conversation pass him by. "Of course he does, sweetie. This is Ric Delmore -- you've heard me talk about him. But how do you two know each other?"
I glanced at Walt and answered. "We met on the beach earlier today." When I looked back at Kristi, her expression was totally closed and all remnants of her smile were gone.
She turned to Walt, ignoring me. "Yes, I remember hearing about Ric." Like I was a serial murderer they'd warned her to avoid. "Dad, I've got to get back. I'm in the middle of some orders."
He didn't appear to notice her sudden attitude change. "Okay, sweetie. But come out whenever you've got a few minutes. You and Ric should get to know each other." I could tell the idea excited her no end.
After she disappeared back into the kitchen, all I wanted to do was figure out why she'd suddenly done an about-face on me. It wasn't my imagination that she'd been happy to see me just a minute ago -- nor that now she wished I'd never been born.
Walt said, "So, Ric, what are you doing in town? And don't tell me you don't have a wife and kids by now!"
Well, so much for having a chance to think! I smiled at the question I'd think was intrusive from anyone else. "I'm here on vacation. And sorry, I'm not married." That seemed too brief an answer, so I filled him in on the last twenty years. "I majored in computer science at the U of O, like I'd planned, and since then, I've been working at a couple of high-tech places right outside Portland. I've been a project lead for the last six or eight years."
He nodded. That had been my career plan when I worked here, and he'd always believed I'd make it. Now came the part I'd just as soon leave out. Except this was Walt, and I'd always been able to talk to him. "And as of this past Thursday, I'm unemployed. My project was canned and I could either scramble for a new job inside the company or get a nice buyout package. I took the package." Simply saying the words made my insides feel a little shaky.
Not as shaky as they seemed to make Walt, though. He just sat there, stock-still, not even seeming to breathe. I manufactured a grin and said, "Hey, it's not that serious. I can get a new job with a couple of phone calls. I just figured I'd take a short vacation first, to decompress after the months of hard work." That didn't seem to reassure him, so I added, "This happens all the time in the software business. It's not a big deal."
Still looking grim and now somewhat pale, he muttered, "It's not you," and fumbled for something in his pocket. He brought out a small metal tube, about the size of a lip balm, and opened it laboriously.
There was something wrong with him! Had I done the same with him as I'd done with Dad -- waited too long to really get to know him?
I couldn't stand it if I had. I stood up.
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